The first sensation that I remember ever feeling was hunger. Newborn me was born with a full stomach, but with a skeletal appearance and crying louder than any newborn ever that night at the hospital. Mom took me into her embrace and out of instinct I tried to bite her despite the fact that I would not have teeth for several months. My nose could smell the delicious meat and blood and my toothless gums “bit” gently at my mothers and father's fingers. At this stage this behavior was adorable, and they would coo and laugh and let me suck on their fingers. When my first tooth came in and I bit a nurse so hard and with such ferocity it was a struggle to get me to let go, neither of them laughed or thought I was adorable anymore.  

Due to my low weight, I was kept at the hospital for a long time after my birth. None of the doctors or nurses could figure out why I refused to eat anything whether it was milk from my mother or a substitute formula. Even though I was just a baby, I myself knew what the problem was. What the only thing I would ever want to and enjoy eating was. My chubby little hands were grasping tightly at both nurses and my parents. They tried in vain to tear off skin and meat and my mouth tried doing the same. Eventually they fed me nourishment via a tube and my weight started to rise, but my desperate crying didn't cease until I figured I could lessen the agonizing hunger by sucking on my own fingers or toes, occasionally giving them a bite and sucking out the blood. But the hunger would not be truly satiated like this for long. A few weeks into the tube diet I bit another nurse and this time I nearly tore her finger off. I was satisfied enough after and my weight was at an acceptable level, so I was discharged and finally at home with mom and dad.  

Even a few weeks after that, my parents could live in lovely fairytale world where mom had given birth to a completely healthy and normal little girl. I was held in arms and shown off to relatives and I learned to smile and laugh. I had also learned to eat normal food, even if it gave me no nourishment or joy. For a short time as a baby, I was a human instead of a monster. Or at least I knew how to act human to perfection. Normal food could ease the hunger to a point, but never made it go away. Biting myself and sucking my own blood did the same. But the hunger grew impatient. It wanted to eat meat. Proper human meat. Delicious human meat. Satiating human meat. That night, as they weren't woken up by my tears and screeches, mom and dad thought everything was okay. But that morning my crib and face were covered in blood and my own finger tightly held onto by the few teeth I now had.  

My father reached into the crib and first gently, then with more effort attempted to pry my finger free. But I held on, like a rabid dog onto the first piece of meat it had seen for weeks. I had meat now and I was not going to let it go. The hunger was finally truly pleased as some of the meat had been swallowed and settled into my aching stomach. And now, even in my dreams I sensed the delicious scent of a new source of meat right in front of my nose. My teeth let go and as my mangled hand fell back to my side, my parents could finally see how much damage I managed to cause in just one night and with just four teeth. The skin of my finger was nonexistent, and a chunk of flesh was missing. You couldn't tell due to all the blood, but my I had torn off my fingernail and spit it onto the mattress. My mom ran to the bathroom and threw up. My dad didn't know what to do. But I knew. Using my nose as a guide my drooling mouth followed the scent of new meat. I used all the strength I had as I grabbed my father's finger nearest to me and pulled it towards my mouth. And then I bit down.